Being that I am single, my friendships mean more to me than almost anything else in the world. Making a new friend is easy; making a good friend, not so much. The friends I already have set the bar pretty damn high.
Yesterday I drove to Sherman Oaks to see one of my best friends, Carol. She's got a phobia about being found on the internet, so I won't use her real name. Actually, Carol is her middle name, so you figure it out. Anyway, I don't get to see her as much as I'd like, even though she's only about an hour and a half away. She's writing a book, going to grad school, and she and her partner are putting an addition onto their house. They also have two big dogs, which makes it hard to travel.
Anyway, we went to breakfast at this diner that didn't have biscuits and gravy on the menu. It had chicken-fried steak, it had gravy, but no biscuits. I was bummed. I don't like ordering things I can make at home, and country gravy is one of the few things I have not been able to master in the kitchen. So we eat, and laugh, and as we leave I see the specials board; "New! We now have waffles and biscuits and gravy!"
Poop. But, after all, I didn't go down for the food.
After that, we went to Target. I love Target. I could spend hours in there. Carol had even said to me the night before, "No, I don't want to go there with you. You have to look at everything, and pick it up, and figure out how it works. No."
But, I begged, said I'd be good, and that I was trying to find the new dark Chocolate M&Ms.
"There's dark chocolate ones? Okay, I'll go with you tomorrow."
So we went off on a candy quest. Target didn't have them, but I did get shimmering body powder, vanilla scented shaving cream and some whitening mouthwash.
Next was Sav-on. No dice. In Sav-on, my mom called on the cell phone. See, I was supposed to be home by noon, and it was already 1pm. I had told her I would go with her to the old house to... I'll talk about that in the next blog.
I told her that traffic was horrible (total lie), and she said not to worry, she'd go by herself.
Okay, back to the candy quest. We then stopped at a 7-11, but they didn't know what we were talking about.
Onward to Walgreen's. Hooray! we found... a display where the dark chocolate ones used to be. All that was left were the milk chocolate "Jedi" packages. Grr.
Rite-aid was next door. Nope. Didn't have 'em either. So we drove all the way to the next Walgreens, and joy of joy, they were there. They even had dark chocolate M&M's with peanuts! We each bought two bags, and celebrated our success.
And then, the candy wasn't even that great. I mean it was chocolate, so it wasn't that bad, but certainly not anything to go to great lengths for.
Except.
I got to spend time with my good friend, laughing, goofing around, and being myself. It was the first time in about 10 days that the pulled muscle in my neck didn't bother me.
I got very lucky in the friend department.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Monday, May 30, 2005
Back to reality I go
It's the Sunday night blahs on Monday night. Memorial Day weekend, a holiday in which we are supposed to remember those soldiers fallen in battle. In actuality, we hit the malls for super sales, have barbecues, and are once again allowed to wear white skirts and shoes (until Labor Day).
When I think about those who have died, are dying, and will die in Iraq, I get sick. One of my former students, David, is over there as a Marine. My memory of him is a pain in the butt teenager who never did his homework, and always had an excuse why. One time, he and his buddy cut school, stole a car, and drove it right into a parked one. I remember him saying he was going to be grounded forever for that.
I hope he's safe. Not one of those I have to remember today.
When I think about those who have died, are dying, and will die in Iraq, I get sick. One of my former students, David, is over there as a Marine. My memory of him is a pain in the butt teenager who never did his homework, and always had an excuse why. One time, he and his buddy cut school, stole a car, and drove it right into a parked one. I remember him saying he was going to be grounded forever for that.
I hope he's safe. Not one of those I have to remember today.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
The sun is out!
Hot dog. Yesterday the fog never seemed to burn off. Not that I mind really. I much prefer walking on the beach with Charlie when it's not crowded and not too hot. Although, yesterday, we really took a walk. I've never seen the tide so low. There were all kinds of rocks and tide pools and creatures in the tide pools that I don't usually get to see.
So, we just kept walking. We had gone about 2 miles when I realized that perhaps my buddy's little legs were getting tired, so we turned around. After we had walked about halfway back, we ran into Sadie, a Shepherd mix, who is one of Charlie's oldest friends. Her people, Joel and Rebecca were with her too. So, of course, we turned around and walked with them. So, a total of 5-6 miles were covered.
After we got home, and Charlie was washed off (he does not like getting washed), he came in, jumped on the couch, and passed out for a few hours. We're going back today, because the tide is still quite low, but we won't cover that much ground.
Walking on the beach with my dog is one of my greatest pleasures right now. It seems like such a simple thing, but the way he takes off when I take him off the leash, it just makes me happy. He loves to run around and play with the other dogs, and I seem to always run into someone I know.
I just realized that you don't see many perfect purebred dogs down there, maybe because the owners don't want their doggies to get dirty? I don't know. It just seems that everyone is more friendlier when they have a romping pooch to keep track of. And, it's hard to be snobbish when you are carrying a bag of dog doo. Last summer, Charlie and I went to the beach almost every day.
I've never looked at a beach/shoreline as closely before. Of course, growing up on the California coast, I went to the beach quite often, but not like this. In junior high, we would ride the bus to Goleta Beach, set up our towels, put on our coppertone, and swim to the buoys (gosh, that's a hard word to spell). I didn't walk anywhere except to the snack bar to buy popsicles and corn chips.
It's a wonderful thing to see how the seasons change things. A winter beach is very different from a summer beach. In the winter, the rocks are exposed, the water is less clear, and this year, several trees lost their hold on the earth and fell on the beach from the cliffs above. Some days, seaweed is all over the place, other days, none. Once in a while, there's "grunge." That's what my mom and dad called it. They were big shell collectors in their day, and they were happy when we found a beach with grunge. It's the very small but plentiful bits of rock and shell and sea glass that sometimes gathers at the edge of the surf. I'd love to know why it's there sometimes, and othertimes not. As a kid, I'd search grunge for an hour, picking up tiny shells to put in my ziplock baggie.
I still collect sea glass and rocks I think are neat. Someday I'll make a frame for Charlie's picture with the sea glass. Although, right now most of what I've collected is behind the bureau in my bedroom. I knocked over the abalone shell in which I keep all of it, and have been too lazy to move the furniture and pick up all the pieces.
Back to the beach. Of course there are always sea gulls and sandpipers. Charlie loves to chase and annoy them, but they always get away. This year there have been several Hawks as well. They really are magnificent birds. I love to see them just coasting in the wind. How they stay so still, just balancing their bodies with the wind current is beyond me. Red Wing Hawks used to be my favorite bird, but not anymore. My favorite bird is the Pelican. It's such a funny looking bird, but utterly graceful in flight. They are the best. Jonathan Livingston Pelican doesn't have quite the same ring, but I think they are beautiful flying in a line, following the leader,then turning into a "V" formation. They don't squawk like the seagulls, and aren't prissy like the sandpipers. I respect hawks, but they are solitary creatures. I need others.
So, I guess it's time to get out and be with others.
So, we just kept walking. We had gone about 2 miles when I realized that perhaps my buddy's little legs were getting tired, so we turned around. After we had walked about halfway back, we ran into Sadie, a Shepherd mix, who is one of Charlie's oldest friends. Her people, Joel and Rebecca were with her too. So, of course, we turned around and walked with them. So, a total of 5-6 miles were covered.
After we got home, and Charlie was washed off (he does not like getting washed), he came in, jumped on the couch, and passed out for a few hours. We're going back today, because the tide is still quite low, but we won't cover that much ground.
Walking on the beach with my dog is one of my greatest pleasures right now. It seems like such a simple thing, but the way he takes off when I take him off the leash, it just makes me happy. He loves to run around and play with the other dogs, and I seem to always run into someone I know.
I just realized that you don't see many perfect purebred dogs down there, maybe because the owners don't want their doggies to get dirty? I don't know. It just seems that everyone is more friendlier when they have a romping pooch to keep track of. And, it's hard to be snobbish when you are carrying a bag of dog doo. Last summer, Charlie and I went to the beach almost every day.
I've never looked at a beach/shoreline as closely before. Of course, growing up on the California coast, I went to the beach quite often, but not like this. In junior high, we would ride the bus to Goleta Beach, set up our towels, put on our coppertone, and swim to the buoys (gosh, that's a hard word to spell). I didn't walk anywhere except to the snack bar to buy popsicles and corn chips.
It's a wonderful thing to see how the seasons change things. A winter beach is very different from a summer beach. In the winter, the rocks are exposed, the water is less clear, and this year, several trees lost their hold on the earth and fell on the beach from the cliffs above. Some days, seaweed is all over the place, other days, none. Once in a while, there's "grunge." That's what my mom and dad called it. They were big shell collectors in their day, and they were happy when we found a beach with grunge. It's the very small but plentiful bits of rock and shell and sea glass that sometimes gathers at the edge of the surf. I'd love to know why it's there sometimes, and othertimes not. As a kid, I'd search grunge for an hour, picking up tiny shells to put in my ziplock baggie.
I still collect sea glass and rocks I think are neat. Someday I'll make a frame for Charlie's picture with the sea glass. Although, right now most of what I've collected is behind the bureau in my bedroom. I knocked over the abalone shell in which I keep all of it, and have been too lazy to move the furniture and pick up all the pieces.
Back to the beach. Of course there are always sea gulls and sandpipers. Charlie loves to chase and annoy them, but they always get away. This year there have been several Hawks as well. They really are magnificent birds. I love to see them just coasting in the wind. How they stay so still, just balancing their bodies with the wind current is beyond me. Red Wing Hawks used to be my favorite bird, but not anymore. My favorite bird is the Pelican. It's such a funny looking bird, but utterly graceful in flight. They are the best. Jonathan Livingston Pelican doesn't have quite the same ring, but I think they are beautiful flying in a line, following the leader,then turning into a "V" formation. They don't squawk like the seagulls, and aren't prissy like the sandpipers. I respect hawks, but they are solitary creatures. I need others.
So, I guess it's time to get out and be with others.
Saturday, May 28, 2005
May Gray
My beautiful Charlie boy woke up with all the energy of a dog who hasn't been on a proper walk for two days. He jumps out of bed (yes, I let him sleep with me) and then starts whining until I acknowledge him. I usually pick him up, and put him back on the bed, and get 15 more minutes before it all starts again. See, my bed is 150 years old (not the mattress), and it's much higher off the ground than most. Charlie can get up on the bed by himself, but that ability disappears the moment I am in the bed, half asleep and comfortable.
I just checked the tides though:
http://www.tides.info/?Command=view&location=Santa+Barbara%2C+California
and it looks like it's going to be a very low tide today, -95! So, I'll bundle up and get Charlie down to the beach this morning. Hendry's Beach is the only one in town where dogs can go off leash. He's so happy there! I usually go by myself or with my friend Deborah and her dog Rio. I try to get there at least 4 or 5 days a week, but the tides don't always cooperate. During the summer it's much easier.
It's a three day weekend! Whoo hoo! And all my friends are out of town. Boo hoo.
It's not that bad though. I have to grade all the poetry portfolios that were turned in by my students last week. I love being a teacher; I love being in front of a class, lesson planning, research, helping students learn... but I hate grading. So much of it is just for the sake of accountability. In Junior High, the first question asked when given a writing assignment is, "how long does it have to be?"
Drives me nuts. I always answer "As long as it needs to be." Drives them crazy. I figure it's fair.
I guess the other thing that bothers me is difficult parents. I have some parents who demand that I notify them immediately if their darling son's grade falls below an "A" at any time, and then other parents who have a failing child, and yet believes the child when he or she says, "No Mom, I don't have any homework."
I tried that once. For the first 5 weeks of seventh grade, I basically didn't do any English homework. It was boring, so I didn't do it. Then the progress report showed up.
Oh my. My mother and father were not amused. I was grounded from the middle of October until Christmas vacation. No phone, no TV, no stereo, no going outside. It was horrible.
But, I got a C by the end of the semester. Not a stellar grade, I know, but my parent's worked with my teacher, and I got back on track.
By the way, only a few years ago, my mother said to me, "You know, Mrs. L- was a bitch." I had to pick up my lower jaw from the floor.
"Why didn't you ever tell me?" I had hated this woman who played favorites with all the cute and popular kids (of course her daughter was in the same grade as I, and was a drill team member, and in student government, and wore those cute little Dittos pants with the rainbow stitching, while I wore the Fedmart brand, polyester blend imitations), and she really had been a bitch.
"There was no reason to. She was your teacher, and you had to respect her, whether I liked her or not."
Yea Mom. I wish more parents were like her.
Here's the most recent galling episode with a student and parent:
I have an after school, 7th period class called SOAR (Skills, Organization, and Responsibility). Of course, the students have different words to call the class. Anyway, it's for those students failing or getting a "D" in more than one subject. You can imagine the charmers I have in this class.
C--- is a very smart and very lazy kid. He always says he has no work to do, so I run around contacting his teachers to get the work directly from them. Even then,
"C--- here is your English homework from Ms. B."
"I can't do it. I don't have my English notebook."
"Well then, here is your history homework from Mr. Marquez."
"My work is all in my English notebook."
You get the picture.
One day last week, C--- decided to play with his yo-yo. Middle of class, everyone else is working or pretending to work, and he's yo-yo-ing. I walk over, put my hand out, and he gives it to me.
I have a policy in all my classes; no toys and no grooming. If I see someone brushing her hair or playing with a tech deck, I take it away and put it in a large tin I have above my class cupboard.
The students know that they will get their items back if one of their parents call me, or on the last day of school.
So, his mom calls me the next day, and leaves a message: "C--- told me that you took his yo-yo away. He said you just took it from him, even though it was before class started, and he didn't know the rules, and that he wasn't playing with it, but just putting it away. I want you to give it back to him today, because he won't be there Friday, and I don't want him to have to wait until Monday."
um...
My message machine at school clearly states that I'm not able to retrieve messages between 8am and 3:30pm. You know, teaching and all kinda gets in the way of that. I call back within 24 hours; school policy.
So, not only do I not get that message during the day, I have a sub for the afternoon class because of Bridezilla's wedding extravaganza activities. I had to leave early that day, but figured, oh well. He's not going to die without his yo-yo for one weekend.
I check my messages again Friday morning, and mom has left another one:
"Ms. S-. I came in after school today to make sure that you gave C--- back his property, and was very disappointed to find you had a substitute [because teachers aren't allowed to have a day off?]. Since I was there, I just took the yo yo back. If you'd like to talk to me, the best time to get ahold of me is after 8pm."
!
So, this woman came into my room, went behind my desk, took the tin off the top of my cupboard, and saved the toy from banishment.
Nice support for my rules. And, the whole bit about calling after 8? Like I don't have anything else to do with my evenings?
What a great example for this kid. If you break the rules, just lie, and if you want something, just take it.
Lovely.
Now I'm all riled up again. It's time to get dressed, get an overpriced, extra hot mocha, and take the dog for a walk.
I just checked the tides though:
http://www.tides.info/?Command=view&location=Santa+Barbara%2C+California
and it looks like it's going to be a very low tide today, -95! So, I'll bundle up and get Charlie down to the beach this morning. Hendry's Beach is the only one in town where dogs can go off leash. He's so happy there! I usually go by myself or with my friend Deborah and her dog Rio. I try to get there at least 4 or 5 days a week, but the tides don't always cooperate. During the summer it's much easier.
It's a three day weekend! Whoo hoo! And all my friends are out of town. Boo hoo.
It's not that bad though. I have to grade all the poetry portfolios that were turned in by my students last week. I love being a teacher; I love being in front of a class, lesson planning, research, helping students learn... but I hate grading. So much of it is just for the sake of accountability. In Junior High, the first question asked when given a writing assignment is, "how long does it have to be?"
Drives me nuts. I always answer "As long as it needs to be." Drives them crazy. I figure it's fair.
I guess the other thing that bothers me is difficult parents. I have some parents who demand that I notify them immediately if their darling son's grade falls below an "A" at any time, and then other parents who have a failing child, and yet believes the child when he or she says, "No Mom, I don't have any homework."
I tried that once. For the first 5 weeks of seventh grade, I basically didn't do any English homework. It was boring, so I didn't do it. Then the progress report showed up.
Oh my. My mother and father were not amused. I was grounded from the middle of October until Christmas vacation. No phone, no TV, no stereo, no going outside. It was horrible.
But, I got a C by the end of the semester. Not a stellar grade, I know, but my parent's worked with my teacher, and I got back on track.
By the way, only a few years ago, my mother said to me, "You know, Mrs. L- was a bitch." I had to pick up my lower jaw from the floor.
"Why didn't you ever tell me?" I had hated this woman who played favorites with all the cute and popular kids (of course her daughter was in the same grade as I, and was a drill team member, and in student government, and wore those cute little Dittos pants with the rainbow stitching, while I wore the Fedmart brand, polyester blend imitations), and she really had been a bitch.
"There was no reason to. She was your teacher, and you had to respect her, whether I liked her or not."
Yea Mom. I wish more parents were like her.
Here's the most recent galling episode with a student and parent:
I have an after school, 7th period class called SOAR (Skills, Organization, and Responsibility). Of course, the students have different words to call the class. Anyway, it's for those students failing or getting a "D" in more than one subject. You can imagine the charmers I have in this class.
C--- is a very smart and very lazy kid. He always says he has no work to do, so I run around contacting his teachers to get the work directly from them. Even then,
"C--- here is your English homework from Ms. B."
"I can't do it. I don't have my English notebook."
"Well then, here is your history homework from Mr. Marquez."
"My work is all in my English notebook."
You get the picture.
One day last week, C--- decided to play with his yo-yo. Middle of class, everyone else is working or pretending to work, and he's yo-yo-ing. I walk over, put my hand out, and he gives it to me.
I have a policy in all my classes; no toys and no grooming. If I see someone brushing her hair or playing with a tech deck, I take it away and put it in a large tin I have above my class cupboard.
The students know that they will get their items back if one of their parents call me, or on the last day of school.
So, his mom calls me the next day, and leaves a message: "C--- told me that you took his yo-yo away. He said you just took it from him, even though it was before class started, and he didn't know the rules, and that he wasn't playing with it, but just putting it away. I want you to give it back to him today, because he won't be there Friday, and I don't want him to have to wait until Monday."
um...
My message machine at school clearly states that I'm not able to retrieve messages between 8am and 3:30pm. You know, teaching and all kinda gets in the way of that. I call back within 24 hours; school policy.
So, not only do I not get that message during the day, I have a sub for the afternoon class because of Bridezilla's wedding extravaganza activities. I had to leave early that day, but figured, oh well. He's not going to die without his yo-yo for one weekend.
I check my messages again Friday morning, and mom has left another one:
"Ms. S-. I came in after school today to make sure that you gave C--- back his property, and was very disappointed to find you had a substitute [because teachers aren't allowed to have a day off?]. Since I was there, I just took the yo yo back. If you'd like to talk to me, the best time to get ahold of me is after 8pm."
!
So, this woman came into my room, went behind my desk, took the tin off the top of my cupboard, and saved the toy from banishment.
Nice support for my rules. And, the whole bit about calling after 8? Like I don't have anything else to do with my evenings?
What a great example for this kid. If you break the rules, just lie, and if you want something, just take it.
Lovely.
Now I'm all riled up again. It's time to get dressed, get an overpriced, extra hot mocha, and take the dog for a walk.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
40 sure doesn't feel like the new 30
So.
I'm trying this yet again. Don't know how long I'll keep at it; I lasted about 5 days over at live journal. This time I have at least one friend here to keep me company, Tornwordo... my dear friend Rick who now lives too damn far away from me.
Let's see, so far this year I've had skin cancer (removed, not the really bad kind, but then, is there any kind of cancer that's not the bad kind?), broken a tooth and paid $1000 for my first crown, tore some fibers in my calf muscle while I was ... walking, gotten Bronchitis, coughed so hard from the Bronchitis that I pulled a muscle in my neck and shoulder, and was a bridesmaid for the seventh time.
Oh, and my father stopped speaking to me in September.
It's been a banner year so far.
I haven't written anything of merit since September either, just about 100 different versions of a letter to my dad, all of which I didn't send. I did finally send one, maybe I'll post it here when I'm feeling more energetic.
My writing group (like a book club, except we get together and share our writing 1x a month) is probably getting ready to throw me out. I need to get some real writing done.
But, that won't be tonight. Tomorrow is the big poetry recitation in my class. I set everything up to look like a coffee house; plants, candles, jazz music, a beaded door curtain... and all the desks are arranged to look like tables. Instead of coffee though,they're getting the cheap orange drink and Von's brand cookies. They will act appalled, but they will all eat it.
This is my favorite project of the whole year, but usually I write poems with my students. This year I didn't write any.
Gotta go to bed.
I'm trying this yet again. Don't know how long I'll keep at it; I lasted about 5 days over at live journal. This time I have at least one friend here to keep me company, Tornwordo... my dear friend Rick who now lives too damn far away from me.
Let's see, so far this year I've had skin cancer (removed, not the really bad kind, but then, is there any kind of cancer that's not the bad kind?), broken a tooth and paid $1000 for my first crown, tore some fibers in my calf muscle while I was ... walking, gotten Bronchitis, coughed so hard from the Bronchitis that I pulled a muscle in my neck and shoulder, and was a bridesmaid for the seventh time.
Oh, and my father stopped speaking to me in September.
It's been a banner year so far.
I haven't written anything of merit since September either, just about 100 different versions of a letter to my dad, all of which I didn't send. I did finally send one, maybe I'll post it here when I'm feeling more energetic.
My writing group (like a book club, except we get together and share our writing 1x a month) is probably getting ready to throw me out. I need to get some real writing done.
But, that won't be tonight. Tomorrow is the big poetry recitation in my class. I set everything up to look like a coffee house; plants, candles, jazz music, a beaded door curtain... and all the desks are arranged to look like tables. Instead of coffee though,they're getting the cheap orange drink and Von's brand cookies. They will act appalled, but they will all eat it.
This is my favorite project of the whole year, but usually I write poems with my students. This year I didn't write any.
Gotta go to bed.
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